


Always Crush Me

by Eridanie



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:13:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4158297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eridanie/pseuds/Eridanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would being that gorgeous mean for someone with self esteem problems and father issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Crush Me

**Author's Note:**

> Comments: This was my first PWP.  
> Originally posted on livejournal on 2/26/08

Sex always made him feel cheap, the whore, the men in India, or New York. He was their doll, their fuck toy. So beautiful, but it only made them want to bruise his too perfect skin, leave a lasting mark on the expanse of smoothness, and hear his whimpers and sobs, not caring whether it was from pleasure or pain, either way it would assert their dominance over him. Degraded, debased, he took in all their abuse to the hilt, taking pride that no kind of treatment could make him feel, or hurt, that they were the ones that wanted him, and he needed no one. He'd recognized the familiar look of hunger in their eyes, and submitted without protest to their needs. Sometimes in India he had been called names while they fucked him, he knew it was true, he was a freak, a fag, a slut, still playing the child whore at an age that he should have been married, but that was a role he didn't think he could take on. Matt and Bennet had respected him as a colleague, respected his intellect, but they still treated him like a fuck toy when he let them. 

Peter was different, the outlier in a lifetime of repetitive experiences. He eased toward him with serious concern pooled in his lighter brown eyes, eyebrows furrowed. His empathic senses cutting right to his core, laying him bare. "Why do you think you deserve to be treated like that?" He asked. Mohinder's throat closed off, and he quickly turned his back against the unwanted tide of emotion. "Please, you're so beautiful" Peter's lips mouthed, half whisper and half whimper as Peter reached out to turn him back around. Mohinder thought of all the times he had been called that, but never had it seemed so meaningful as when Peter said it. "You should be worshiped" he says as he reaches up to tangle his fingers in a curl, and draws his face close to show him the meaning of the word. 

His kiss is overflowing with pent up emotion, and Mohinder feels an unfamiliar sensation rise in his chest. Peter slips in closer, pressing him against the wall, and starts whispering tributes. Love you. Adore you. He reaches down to lift Mohinder's shirt and caresses his fingertips across his dark stomach, his fingers drag down slowly as he drops to his knees and bites into gray corduroy, fitting his mouth around the hardening organ and exhaling his heated breath into the taught fabric. He pulls away tilting his head to the side as he looks up into Mohinder's eyes with wide adoration and abject devotion, his lips curving into a coy smile as he pulls down the zipper fly and slides his pants down slender thighs. He rests his cheek against Mohinder's inner thigh inhaling his scent and feeling the heat radiate on his cheek before leaning forward and tonguing the underside of his shaft, he reaches up and slides the already receding foreskin back to reveal the head of Mohinder's dark flushed cock. 

He exhales teasingly on the tip before closing his lips around it, and sliding his mouth down until the head is pushing at the back of his throat, earning him a low moan from Mohinder. He continues sucking deeply to the rhythm of Mohinder's frantic breathing. His eyes stay locked on him with a wanton expression, eyes wide and black with desire, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and red as they part around his cock. Mohinder starts to shudder under the force of his approaching orgasm, and when he comes Peter's name leaves his lips in a soft exhale. Peter withdraws his mouth slowly, and Mohinder shivers at this last contact of lips sliding down his shaft, and watches as peter swallows every trace of the pearlescent fluid, beaming triumphantly as he reaches out to grasp Mohinder's thigh. Mohinder, shell shocked and breathless slides down to the floor with him and rests his sweat slicked forehead against Peter's shoulder.


End file.
